by Kim Lawrence
‘It really feels like he’s mine now we’re home.’
‘Mine?’
Jo caught her upper lip between her teeth but didn’t reply to his ironic interjection. ‘When I was visiting him every day in hospital it felt as if he belonged to someone else.’ Every container in the room appeared to be filled with floral tributes; the smell was marvellous. ‘People have been kind,’ she murmured, reading a label attached to a bouquet.
The awkwardness with which she stood uncertainly looking around the room was not wasted on Liam. She’d said ‘home’ but the fact she didn’t feel she belonged had never been more obvious.
‘It’ll certainly be easier to say goodnight to him in the nursery rather than travelling twenty miles to the hospital,’ he agreed casually. ‘Here, let me hold him for you,’ he said as she began to shrug her jacket off one shoulder. ‘Don’t worry, I’m not about to flee the country,’ he added with a flicker of anger in his eyes as she very obviously hesitated, only fractionally, but enough to betray her reluctance to relinquish her burden.
‘We’ve discussed this often enough, Jo. I thought the whole idea of you being here is for me to help you until you have some sort of routine.’
‘I thought the idea was you’re going to be indispensable.’
She handed over the travel seat containing the sleeping figure of their son regretting her churlish response, but unable to admit it. Whilst she’d been longing for this moment for the past weeks she’d also been dreading it. How were you supposed to act when circumstances beyond your control meant you were forced to share a house with your estranged husband?
To say she had doubts over this arrangement would have been an understatement! But when she’d looked at it from a dispassionate point of view—which Liam had forced her to—this was the best solution to her immediate problems.
There had been Dad, but she knew her father had been secretly relieved when she’d said she was moving in with Liam when little Connor came out of hospital. She didn’t blame him—Dad’s days of being kept awake by crying babies were behind him.
Looking after a baby when there were professionals around to step in was one thing, but being alone with sole responsibility for that life. . . ! Connor had had a few setbacks over the past three weeks. If anything happened now there was no medical team to spring into action. Was she being pathetic not going solo from the start?
So long as I remember this was only a temporary solution I can cope with the arrangement, she told herself firmly. She’d been over all the arguments in her head often enough.
‘You think I’ll try and persuade you to stay when the time comes? Don’t you?’ Liam removed the blanket that covered the sleeping baby; the room was warm.
His words made Jo start, almost guiltily. ‘Your mother didn’t believe a word I said when I told her this was strictly temporary.’ She shook her head wearily. ‘And my dad wasn’t much better.’
‘I’m not talking about what other people think, I’m talking about what you think. The fact you feel the need to qualify every other sentence you utter with a veiled reference to the fact you’ll only be here for a few weeks makes it pretty clear you think I’m going to develop selective amnesia.’
She flushed and turned away from his ironic stare. Surely she’d been more subtle than that? ‘You’ll probably be so desperate for a decent night’s sleep you’ll call us a taxi.’
She didn’t feel half as flippant as she sounded but she was determined not to let things get too intense and confusing. She couldn’t let herself be influenced by her own feelings for him. Liam only wanted her because she came as a package with the baby. She couldn’t settle for that, could she? In her weaker moments she found herself thinking perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad after all. No, if she started making concessions she was lost!
‘You’re wrong, you know.’
‘You’ll make us walk. . . ?’ Her nervous humour was met by a very unappreciative audience. Would she want to walk? That was the question. When it came to the crunch would she have the strength?
‘I don’t want you to stay, Jo—not if you don’t trust me.’
It was a lot like the feeling she’d experienced on her first real date—at least she’d thought at the time it was a real date, when she’d stood heart pounding in anticipation, ready to be kissed, and the boy in question had gruffly confided that he fancied her best friend to distraction. Take that feeling and multiply it by a million or so and you were almost there. Liam didn’t want her. That sort of simplified matters, but did she really want things that simple?
‘Let me get this straight—you don’t want me to live with you?’ She was surprised that her voice sounded almost normal.
‘You’re welcome to stay as long as you need to,’ he said, not exactly falling over himself to contradict her.
‘Very grateful, I’m sure.’ It was all a matter of self-control. This was the wrong time to hyperventilate—having Liam shove her face in a brown paper bag would really be the icing on the cake!
Did he feel this terrible when I rejected him? She discarded this theory; nobody had ever felt this bad. ‘But you’re attaching. . . conditions to me extending my stay. Have I got it right?’ Her voice shook with suppressed emotions, one of which was definitely anger. She concentrated on anger; it was a much easier emotion than devastation or humiliation. How dare he say he doesn’t want me, even if it’s true?
‘I expect you’ll feel happier knowing I’m not going to pressurise you. Sit down, you look washed out.’ Apparently oblivious to the fact his words had brought her to the brink of an emotional explosion, he placed the baby carrier down and plumped up a cushion on the armchair. ‘It’s bound to be a bit of an anticlimax. You’ve been building up to this day for so long now.’
Very understanding for an insensitive rat, she marvelled. ‘You will tell me when I’ve outstayed my welcome, won’t you?’
‘Have I said something to upset you?’
Now she was sure he was being sarcastic. ‘You think I’d be that impossible to live with, then?’ It would have been more dignified to hold her tongue—dignified, but impossible. ‘Or are you just afraid I’ll disrupt your social life?’
‘I think your distrust of me would be a major obstacle,’ he informed her calmly. ‘For different reasons I’ve simply come to the same conclusion as you. Don’t you find it just the tiniest bit perverse that you’re offended?’
‘I am not offended.’ She wished she’d held her tongue and hadn’t given him the opportunity to gloat. Too late to worry about that now.
One dark, sceptical brow disappeared behind the dark hank of hair that had flopped forward over his forehead. ‘Perhaps you’ve been enjoying the spectacle of me begging and cajoling you,’ he mused. ‘It must have given you a delicious sense of power.’ His voice was controlled but his reflective smile was caustic. ‘Now when I make it clear there is no way I’m going to try slipping into your bed and seducing you. . . ’ With narrowed eyes he repeated the comments Jo recalled making during their lengthy, and sometimes heated debates in hospital. ‘I must say you have a lamentably low opinion of my will-power.’
Why doesn’t he just go ahead and say he doesn’t find me attractive any more? She certainly didn’t feel very attractive at the moment. Motherhood had made her many things, but irresistibly sexy was not one of them. She’d always known the sexual thing had been a temporary, crazy thing that would die a natural death. There was no need at all to be devastated just because he chose to spell it out.
‘The last time your will-power was put to the test I don’t recall you emerging with flying colours!’ Liam’s expression didn’t alter, but that muscle with a life of its own in his left cheek started pulsing spasmodically. So, it was below the belt. She refused to feel repentant; he’d pushed her into a corner.
Power? The man was mad. Power was the last thing she’d had. She’d been as helpless as a newborn babe since she’d realised she’d fallen in love with him.
‘And from
where I was sitting it looked more like bullying and blackmailing than cajoling!’ Who was he kidding? He’d never begged in his life.
He ignored her heated words with an infuriatingly sceptical smile. ‘I’ve had enough of trying to fit in with your plans. If you want to stay it’ll be on my terms.’
‘How masterful!’ she hooted derisively.
‘It’s the new me. Glad you like it.’
‘I don’t!’
‘If you want me, Jo, you’ll have to do the asking.’
She gasped incredulously. ‘What a time to start experimenting with mind-altering substances,’ she croaked.
‘I’d be willing to think again. Probably. . . ’
‘For the sake of the baby, no doubt.’
‘I’m not sure if having two parents sharing a roof is enough compensation for bringing a child up in an atmosphere of mistrust.’
‘And your version of trust means I have to believe everything you tell me no matter how implausible.’
‘Why would I lie to you?’ He pushed back the errant wing of hair impatiently. The simplicity of his question troubled her.
‘You need a haircut,’ she observed automatically.
He gritted his teeth. For a second there it had looked as if she had actually paused long enough to think. ‘That’s a very wifely observation,’ he hissed. ‘It brings to mind all the wifely things I’ve been missing.’
This acid retort brought a flush to her cheeks. ‘If I’ve got to look at you, you might at least be presentable.’ She also had enough to contend with without fighting her irrational urges to brush that lock of hair from his eyes.
‘What is this, snipe as you mean to go on?’
‘I am not. . . ’ Under his steady regard she had the grace to blush.
She was suddenly assailed by guilt. He’d been so good to her during the last worrying weeks. Whenever she’d needed him he’d been there and all he’d got for his troubles was an ungrateful female who took out her fears and frustrations on him. No wonder he wanted to see the back of her.
‘It’s your fault!’ she yelled unreasonably.
‘I’ve grown to expect something more inspired from you, Jo,’ he said in a disappointed tone.
The unmistakable snuffling sounds of Connor waking diverted her frustration. Her body was programmed to respond to the hungry cry. ‘He’ll want feeding.’ She’d heard that some men resented the fact their partners had to drop everything for a new baby; Liam wasn’t displaying any of this resentment.
‘I’ll get you a drink and shift your gear to the nursery,’ he said practically as she settled down with the baby on her lap.
The implication of her things being put in the nursery didn’t escape her. A short time later when she took Connor through to his crib the sight of the single bed against one wall made it pretty clear Liam wasn’t risking any misunderstandings.
‘I didn’t think you’d want to be far from him.’
Jo twisted around; she hadn’t heard his silent approach. ‘That’s very thoughtful.’
‘Thoughtful to let you have the sleepless nights?’
She shrugged. ‘You can’t feed him.’
‘No, but I can hear him and bring him to you when he needs a feed. We’ll take turns sleeping in here until you feel more comfortable leaving him alone.’ Unexpectedly he took her chin in his fingers and tilted her face upwards. ’He only stopped breathing that time because of the infection,’ he said compassionately. ‘You heard what the doctors said, he’s strong.’ Liam looked at the small, sleeping figure with affectionate pride.
Her heart swelled with love. Without his support she didn’t think she could have survived the last few weeks of constant worry and uncertainty. At one point it had seemed that Connor was taking two steps backwards for every one forward but Liam’s confidence had not wavered for an instant.
‘I’m glad I’m not alone.’ She couldn’t regret the spontaneity of her fierce little announcement, but she couldn’t help but wonder, given their recent exchange of views, how he’d take it.
Liam’s gaze shifted abruptly to her face. Her words had obviously shocked him. ‘You’ll never be alone now, Jo.’
She couldn’t tear her gaze away from his staggeringly beautiful eyes. ‘No?’ she breathed huskily.
‘No, you have Connor.’
She might be in love with their son—he was the most perfect creature ever born—but that hadn’t been what she’d hoped to hear. She turned her head away and hoped he didn’t suspect how close she’d come to making a complete fool of herself.
‘For the next eighteen years, anyway.’ She had control of her feelings by the time she replied.
‘All his mates will fancy you like crazy,’ Liam predicted.
‘Teenagers think sex is a distant memory to anyone over thirty.’
‘No, that’s just their parents. Boys of that age always find the experienced older woman irresistible.’
‘Could this be the wisdom of experience talking?’ Jo lifted her face to him, a teasing smile on her lips. Sparring with Liam had always been an enjoyable way to pass the time.
‘Quite like old times.’
He’d done it so often she didn’t feel surprised that Liam’s words mirrored her thoughts almost exactly.
‘It’s not, though, is it?’ She spoilt the moment by stating the obvious.
‘That doesn’t have to be a bad thing—it’s up to us.’ He cursed as the phone he earned shrilly rang out. ‘I thought I’d turned it off, sorry. Excuse me a sec.’ He fished out his mobile and shot an anxious look at the sleeping baby before speaking tersely into the receiver. ‘Suzanna, I told you I’m not available today. Two minutes, that’s all. . . ’ He mimed ‘sorry’ at Jo and stepped out of the room.
Well, the woman must be moonstruck if she didn’t mind being spoken to like that, Jo reflected. It had hardly been lover-like Had she minded him taking such an active part in the first few weeks of his son’s life? Obviously other parts of their relationship compensated. . . Perhaps they had great sex? There were distinct disadvantages to having a vivid imagination! She closed her eyes and willed the Technicolor images to recede.
‘Sorry about that.’
Jo stepped outside the room past Liam who pushed the door quietly to behind her. The jealousy tightened like a knot in her chest until she felt as if she couldn’t breathe.
‘You don’t have to apologise for your personal life to me. It’s not as if we’re really married.’ She oozed mature understanding.
‘Just like you’re not really jealous.’
The mature understanding vanished into thin air. ‘If you spoke to me like that, I’d. . . I’d. . . ’
‘How fortunate for humanity all that wild red-headed aggression is confined in a delicate and fragile vessel.’
Lucky for him too, she thought as her hands automatically balled into fists. ‘She must be besotted!’ Jo spat, eyeing him with venomous dislike.
‘Do you think so?’
‘You’re asking me for reassurance? I didn’t think you were plagued by insecurities.’
‘I used to think that too—possibly marrying a woman who runs out on me on our wedding night has sapped my confidence.’
‘It doesn’t show.’
He laid a hand on her arm and she felt the fine quiver of tension run through his body. Confused, she raised her eyes to his face. The intensity of the pain she glimpsed in his shadowed eyes was shocking. Suddenly she wasn’t certain about anything any more.
‘I didn’t want to hurt you,’ she whispered. ‘I was partly to blame I allowed myself to have some pretty unrealistic expectations of our marriage,’ she confessed, ‘and when I heard you. . . ’ She closed her eyes as she relived the awful moment. ‘I realised how stupid I’d been,’ she finished flatly.
Liam moved until she stood within the circle of his arms. His thumbs moved in circular, rhythmic motions over her upper arms. Her eyelids fluttered but she couldn’t look away from the devouring grip of his gaze.<
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‘How had you been stupid, Jo?’ His voice sounded raw and uneven, but the way his tongue curled around her name triggered a terrifying response in her body. ‘You’re hot,’ he breathed wonderingly as a pink glow suffused her from head to toe. ‘Did I. . . ?’
She was suddenly tired: tired of pretending, tired of denying the obvious. ‘I can’t help it.’ She raked her quivering lower lip quite savagely with her teeth. ‘I thought I could do this,’ she moaned half to herself. Her silky hair lashed against her cheek as she shook her head from side to side. ‘But obviously I can’t.’
He reached down and brushed away a strand that had adhered to the film of moisture that covered her skin. ‘Tell me about your unrealistic dreams, Jo.’
‘I thought I could make you fall in love with me.’ She hunched her shoulders defensively.
‘That’s not something you can engineer, it just happens. Did it happen to you, Jo?’
His pursuit of the truth seemed unreasonably cruel but part of her was relieved to be able to finally confess. ‘Yes. . . yes. . . yes!’ She tried to cover her face with her hands, but cruelly he took her wrists.
‘No,’ he said firmly as she struggled, ‘I think you’ve hidden from me for long enough. Look at me!’ he ordered quietly.
Something she couldn’t quite identify in his tone made her obey without thinking. One large tear trembled in the corner of her eyes before it slowly slid down the curve of her cheek as she stood transfixed by what she was seeing. All thoughts of escape disappeared. Caution had become a habit and she found she couldn’t accept what she was seeing.
‘Shall I confess something?’ There was an expression in his eyes she’d only ever seen in her dreams, and it was better—so much better in real life.
Jo nodded her head vigorously. She had a sudden blissful feeling she might quite like what she was about to hear.
‘If you’d stayed at that door a few moments longer you’d have heard me tell Dad the only reason I’d married you was that I loved you. I loved you and I couldn’t bear the idea of living without you. I thought that was what you’d heard. I thought that was what made you so disgusted. Would you believe I was relieved when I realised you’d got the wrong end of the stick—as usual?’